Clacks cake

Go to Clackmannanshire. (Alva, specifically.)

Eat cake. Cheesecake. Other cake. All of the cake. Homemade.

Plus scrummy savouries.

We’re moving to Clacks in summer. This just gave us another reason to. (It has hills for walking off cake.)

Cobbed out.

Me: “Want sweetcorn?”

The Bobcat: “Sweetcorn is my enemy.”

Me: “Really? You normally hoover it up.”

The Bobcat: “TOMORROW I liked sweetcorn. THIS day…..sweetcorn….is….my…ENEMY!”

Me: “Thanks for clarifying.” [Replaces glasses.]

The Bobcat: “oooooOOoohh. GRaaaavyyy. SWIM, PEAS! SWIM!”